


a thousand teeth, and yours among them

by iokanaan



Series: historical atsukita aus [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Edo Period, Enemies to Atsumu having a massive crush on Kita, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Meetings, Foxes, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Relationship, Youkai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 10:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iokanaan/pseuds/iokanaan
Summary: “Peacefully,”Atsumu sneers. “You come here threatening to kill me,peacefully?I should gut you for your insolence. I shouldeatyou."The miko just stares up at him. There’s no fear in those eyes. There’s absolutely nothing in those eyes, as if he were simply gazing through the cut-away hearts of twin gold coins.“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says in his cold, placid voice. “It’d be more trouble than it’s worth."Sometime during the Edo period, somewhere in Tajima Province, a kitsune meets (and does not eat) a wayward miko.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Series: historical atsukita aus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911223
Comments: 12
Kudos: 156
Collections: Atsukita Week





	a thousand teeth, and yours among them

**Author's Note:**

> for atsukita week day 5: myths.
>
>> **Glossary**  
>  Nukekubi: Youkai whose heads can detach and fly around freely  
> Sanaetsuki: Early-rice-planting-month, the traditional Japanese name for May  
> Tajima Province: A historic province of Japan located in present-day northern Hyogo Prefecture

It’s pure chance, really, that Atsumu is the one taking a nap on top of the old decaying torii when trouble comes knocking.

He and Osamu stumbled across this abandoned shrine at the end of Sanaetsuki, and they’ve had a busy summer just making the place fit for living. It had been easy enough to scare away the few humans who dared set foot into the overgrown forest that swallowed up the shrine - they hadn’t even gotten to eat any of them, much to Osamu’s eternal disappointment - but the infestation of snake youkai had been much more of a pain in the ass to get rid of, and they’ve had so many run-ins with the old camellia spirit from across the valley that they now have an unspoken agreement to never, ever bother her again.

It’s just embarrassing, at this point, how many times she’s sent them both packing. Also, the last time she saw them, she threatened to cut off their tails and make a nice scarf, which is a whole other reason to studiously avoid her.

So humans haven’t really been a top priority. It helps that the area is so isolated; a few villages cling to survival in the valley below, subsisting off their meagre rice rations, and Atsumu and Osamu have had all sorts of fun kicking up trouble in their paddies - but besides that, there’s not much in the way of human settlement. Perhaps the land was once more prosperous - certainly it would explain the presence of this old Inari shrine - but those days are long, long past.

Which is exactly how Atsumu likes it. Osamu is simultaneously more well-disposed to humans and also more disposed to eating them; it’s always seemed a bit of an oxymoron to Atsumu, but when pressed, Osamu just shrugs and says that he can enjoy good conversation and good grub even when they come from the same source.

“Besides,” he’d said, the last time Atsumu had bugged him about it, “I don’t tend to eat the humans I actually like.”

Atsumu, on the other hand, has never liked a human in his life. Oh, sometimes a rare mortal might amuse him for a summer or two, but that time always passes in a blink of an eye, and he barely remembers them afterwards.

“You’re just too young,” the old camellia spirit had sighed, when she’d taken a brief break from scolding him for bullying the villagers. “Not even a century old. Come talk to me about memories when you’re my age, you brat! I promise you, Atsumu, you will meet a great many humans in your life, and you’re sure to like some of them. You’ll even love some of them. No matter how much or how little time you have together, even those memories will one day fade - but what remains is how they changed you. Everyone you love lives on in the person you become.

“I can see from your face that you’re not even listening, damn it! Fine, you brat! Scram! And you too, Osamu! If I catch you bothering the villagers again, I’ll chop off both of your tails and fashion myself a nice fox fur scarf!”

Atsumu curls up sulkily on top of the lintel and strokes his tail. How come that old fool is so vicious and so sentimental at the same time, that’s what he wants to know! What use do youkai have for things like memories, anyway? Atsumu lives from day to day to day, always moving onward, always looking forward to the next thing.

It’s only because he’s looking forward, in fact, that he spots the pale head slowly and steadily bobbing towards the shrine.

His first instinct is to dismiss it as a lost nukekubi. All the local nukekubi know to avoid their territory, after he and Osamu started making a game out of tossing the disembodied heads back and forth, but perhaps it’s a traveller from afar…?

No, on closer inspection, that head is definitely attached to a body. A body clad in a distinctive uniform of white kosode and red hakama.

…. Well. This trespasser might not be a nukekubi, but they’re certainly a traveller from afar. Atsumu has never seen a miko round these parts before - not even one so surprisingly, and suspiciously, unarmed.

Osamu would probably yell at him for not eating the miko immediately, or at the very least booting them off the mountain immediately, but Atsumu is feeling curious today. He’s not seen a miko in a long time; mostly by design, of course, since it’s always a hassle when they spot him - him, an innocent kitsune who hasn’t even eaten a human in the last twenty years! - and immediately try to exorcise him.

But miko, like wolves, are more dangerous in packs. It’s only the one miko today; Atsumu can’t sense any other unexpected presence for miles. So it’s fine to play around a little, right?

And if this  _ is _ an attempted exorcism - well, Atsumu has been looking forward to a good fight all summer. (The old camellia spirit doesn’t count, because it’s not a good fight when he always loses.) 

Atsumu licks his lips. Maybe he’ll bring back some human flesh for Osamu tonight.

He watches the miko struggle up the heavily worn steps leading to the torii and counts down the moments until they finally spot him. He doesn’t have to wait long; the miko glances up, just once, and immediately stills.

“Kitsune-sama,” he says, bowing his pale head. “This one respectfully greets you.”

Atsumu leans over the lintel, claws scratching against the peeling paint, a lazy smile hanging off his lips. “And who might  _ this one _ be, calling so brazenly upon my shrine?”

The miko’s eyes dart to the fox statues flanking the torii - one missing a paw, the other with its sawed-off nose - and then back up to Atsumu, in his human form, with only his ears and tail and lacerating claws exposing his true nature.

“Pardon me, kitsune-sama,” he says, falling into a no less respectful and yet significantly more frosty pattern of speech. “Is this shrine yours? I was under the impression that this was an old Inari shrine recently taken over by a pair of twin foxes.”

Atsumu’s scratching takes on the quality of a threat, gouging deep scores into the rotting wood. “Oh? And who might have told you all that, miko-san?”

“The village which hired me.”

Atsumu’s claws punch holes straight through the wood. “So you  _ are  _ here for an exorcism,” he declares, voice seething with barely-concealed bloodlust and delight. Human flesh! Human flesh for dinner tonight!

“Not necessarily,” the miko replies, before Atsumu can wrench his claws out of the torii and tear right into him. Instead, Atsumu carefully extracts his fingers one by one, ears drawn back aggressively against his skull, and eagerly watches for the moment the fear hits his prey.

His prey just frowns a little as he watches. It’s not even a particularly worried frown - more as if the miko disapproves of Atsumu toying with his meal on principle, completely indifferent to the fact that  _ he’s _ about to be the meal.

“An exorcism would be the last resort,” the miko continues, still eyeing Atsumu’s claws with mild distaste. The dark tips of his hair flutter around his forehead as a breeze shears through the still summer air. “I would much prefer to settle this peacefully.”

_ “Peacefully,” _ Atsumu sneers. “You come here threatening to kill me,  _ peacefully? _ I should gut you for your insolence. I should  _ eat _ you."

The miko just stares up at him. There’s no fear in those eyes. There’s absolutely nothing in those eyes, as if he were simply gazing through the cut-away hearts of twin gold coins.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says in his cold, placid voice. “It’d be more trouble than it’s worth.”

Atsumu feels his lips pull back into a smile with far too many teeth. His whole body trembles on the verge of violence, every sleek inch of him coiled up, ready to strike. 

“Who are  _ you _ to warn me of trouble?” 

And in a blink of those coin-like eyes, his teeth are at the miko’s throat.

But he doesn't bite down. His fangs scrape sharp against tender skin, and he can almost taste the sweetness of the miko’s blood; how his pulse picks up, thundering through his veins. 

_ So you are human, after all, _ Atsumu thinks with a vicious joy, and presses his teeth even harder into the miko’s throat - but not quite hard enough to pierce skin.

It’s a momentary victory, though; a momentary warning for this human. Because suddenly there’s a blunt pressure grinding against Atsumu's temple and a searing, acrid smell that has every hair on his body standing on end. Atsumu leaps away instantly, not even able to register what the scent is, just knowing that he is in very real and immediate danger.

He throws himself several metres back, and it’s only then that he realises that he’s staring down the barrel of an actual  _ gun. _

“You have a  _ matchlock gun?!” _ he blurts out, eyes widening and ears twitching with excitement, all feelings of ill will melting away like so much frost.

The miko stares blankly at Atsumu from behind his gun. Even at this distance, Atsumu can see how his throat is beginning to bruise, a rising colour that matches the slight flush across his cheeks. His breathing has picked up a little, too - but his face is a perfect mask of calm, and his hands are sure and steady. All in all, it’s far less of a reaction than Atsumu would expect from someone who just had a close brush with his fangs.

"That is  _ so cool,”  _ Atsumu declares gleefully. Taking great care to telegraph each and every movement - he really doesn't want to get shot, after all - he hides away his canines, throws his sleeves over his hands to conceal his claws, and just generally tries to look like less of a threat. He doesn’t go so far as to droop his ears in submission, but he lets them stand up more playfully than before.

It seems to work, even just a little. The miko doesn’t relax, exactly, and he doesn’t take his finger off the trigger, but some of the wariness seeps away from the tense lines of his body.

Feeling emboldened, Atsumu casually starts inching towards him. “He-ey, miko-san,” he wheedles, eyes glued to the gun. Guns are  _ rare; _ he’s only ever seen one or two from a distance, and nothing quite as beautiful as this prize specimen. “That pistol of yours really is quite something. Mind if I have a closer look?”

The miko doesn’t look at all impressed. “Why would I show my weapon to an enemy?” he says flatly, gun still trained on its target, right between Atsumu’s enraptured eyes. “Let alone an enemy who was just trying to eat me.”

“Aww, it was just a joke, a joke,” Atsumu protests, sidling even closer. “Miko-san, you really do take things too seriously. I wasn’t  _ actually  _ going to hurt you. It was just a tiny little threat.”

“Don’t make threats you don’t intend to carry through,” the miko counters. As if to punctuate his point, he whisks away his pistol in a flash, making it clear that he’s no longer treating this as a fight. Only a plume of smoke remains, kissing softly at his fingers, twisting away into the summer air.

No wonder he was so quick on the draw. God, Atsumu hates summoned weapons - although he’s willing to make an exception for that gun.

“Fine, fine,” he sighs. If his voice is still a little dreamy, that’s no one’s business but his own. That gun really had been so cool, and  _ so  _ well-made, with its lacquered barrel and the gold glimmering around its muzzle, catching the light like a perfectly ripe ear of rice. “Let’s drop the threats, then. You say you’re not here to exorcise us - so why don’t you just leave us be? This is an Inari shrine, after all, and all we’ve done is swap a fox god for a pair of fox youkai. So it’s fine, right? It’s a two for one deal.”

The miko doesn’t look any more impressed than before. Tipping his head to one side, he fixes his gaze on Atsumu, the spark of a lit match cord still burning in his eyes.

"I'm not much one for gods or youkai," he says. "If you've been causing trouble for people, I'll treat you all the same."

"A miko who doesn't care for gods!" Atsumu laughs. "Now I've seen it all."

"I don't care for what you call yourself. What's important is what you do. Every day, over and over, what becomes part of you."

Atsumu lets out another laugh, utterly delighted by this little philosopher. Tapping a claw to his chin, he tilts his head to mirror the miko’s pose. “What is it that my brother and I have done, then? We’ve never even touched the villagers, you know. So what sins could we have committed, to bring us you?”

"Don't play ignorant. You know what you've done," the miko replies, his voice ice, his eyes afire. "You've run riot through the village's paddies and ruined half their crops. You’ve condemned them to a leaner harvest than they’ve had in many years, and their harvests have never been plenty. How many people will starve, do you think, because of your games? How many people will you kill without even touching them?”

Atsumu shrugs. “That’s the human lot,” he says, sing-song. “Droughts, floods, plagues; don’t these destroy harvests too? Do you intend to chastise the heavens for every act of the gods?”

“I would, if I found the gods were doing such things on purpose.”

“How brave of you.” Atsumu’s eyes curve into a smile. He likes this human’s audacity, his unflinching certainty; his solid, unshakeable confidence in the face of any god or monster. “Well, what do you want me to do? Make their crops grow back? I suppose that’s within the realm of possibility for a powerful fox like me… but I dunno, miko-san. Sounds like a lot of work.”

The miko sees right through his dissembling. It’s a little annoying to be read so easily, but Atsumu sort of likes that about him too. “What would you like in return, then?”

What  _ would  _ Atsumu like? “Hmm. A yearly human sacrifice.”

The miko’s eyes narrow, and Atsumu immediately has a vision of his own head being blown off at point-blank range.

“A joke, a joke!” he hastily amends, ears twitching nervously as he edges away from the miko. “Fine, let me think about it. Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”

Atsumu makes an imperious shooing gesture with his sleeve for extra emphasis. The miko just stares at him wordlessly, and Atsumu gets the distinct feeling that he’s being sized up and found - not wanting, exactly, but… just about tolerable. So long as he keeps his end of the bargain and asks for something reasonable tomorrow.

(Not too reasonable, though. Atsumu can’t be going soft, not even for a fearless miko with a gorgeous gun and the quickest draw he’s ever seen with any weapon.)

… Fine! Maybe he finds Atsumu a little wanting. This miko-sama isn’t even impressed by gods, though, so Atsumu isn’t going to be too down on himself about it. 

Finally tearing those scary eyes away from Atsumu, the miko bows deeply before him. The white collar of his kosode slips away from his nape, exposing the curve of his tanned neck, the dips of his spine, the marks of Atsumu’s teeth blossoming dark beneath his skin.

Atsumu shivers a little. The boundaries of his human form briefly waver, lost for a moment to the summer heat. 

“I’ll return tomorrow, then,” the miko says, his voice cool and pleasant to the ear. “Thank you for your generosity, kitsune-sama. I bid you farewell.”

_ Generosity? Yeah, so generously not eating you, _ Atsumu thinks. Speaking of which -

“Bring an offering with you!” Atsumu calls out as he leaves. “I want some actually good rice for once.”

The miko turns back and bows once more. Then, step by step, he retreats - down the stone stairs, swallowed up by the forest, pale head drifting further and further away until he’s nothing but a blur between the trees.

Atsumu watches him, watches and watches him, feeling himself flicker within his own skin. Man and fox, fox and man, fox and man and fox: and when the miko is finally gone, even then Atsumu cannot settle, running circles around the shrine, hungry for tomorrow, for good rice, for another glimpse of him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this fic - I absolutely love mythology & folklore, so it was a really fun prompt to write for ^^ what do you think atsumu might ask for from kita tomorrow...? leave a comment and let me know!


End file.
